Writing

Special guest We were a month away from spring practice. I had been steadily working my list, and Holden had been steadily working his ankle. The two of us were practically whole. The gym had become our “thing”. Not that we worked out together, but wrapping my goals into his was maybe the best idea […]

The Attic The pile of boxes neatly tucked into the back half of the attic appeared to have grown over the years, still twelve cardboard and six plastic bins, but the weight of them had changed somehow.   My life. The one before Roger, Holden, or the version of me that stood here choking on

But after hours and two cups of decaf coffee, I had done it. The short list of plans now existed, neat and clean on my legal pad.

Now what?

In Chapter 1.4 of Aloft, Laine is pulled between the past and present—caught in a memory of her lost love and the gentle confrontation of a son who sees her slipping away.

I wondered if when I died that gap would close and I would actually touch him again. Would that be the moment when my soul left my body? Is that all that held us apart, this body, my cage? Could I step out of it, just for a moment?
My eyes snapped open.
I was alone.
Too far.